


Fail

by ObsidianJade



Category: Bon Jovi
Genre: Angst, Gen, Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9314255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianJade/pseuds/ObsidianJade
Summary: Fromthisincident where JBJ was... kind of pressured into performing ‘Prayer’ at a private wedding he was attending as a guest.  Richie’s POV.





	1. Cracked

Fuck, it _hurt_.

A lot more than it should have. He’d made his choice, turned his back, walked away and shut the door behind him. 

That didn’t change the ache in his heart at the sight of Jon, trying desperately to refuse the singer’s coaxing gestures, at the pain in his eyes when it finally became obvious she wasn’t going to let him. 

Stupid bitch couldn’t even get the lyrics right. 

It was the worst setup a singer could ask for - no warmup, under pressure, on someone else’s system, and in someone else’s key. (The original key, maybe, but the Jon of thirty years ago was as much someone else as that bitch on the screen.)

And fuck, but even with everything wrong, he shouldn’t have sounded that bad. His voice was weak, thin, and straining. Maybe the singer realized her mistake when he started - she got a lot more graceful about picking up the high notes for him, but it didn’t help much. There wasn’t anything that could have helped at that point.

He’d heard Jon’s voice that bad before, but it was decades in the past, during those years of Hell that had made up the endless tour that they all tried to forget.

Jon had, maybe too well. But he’d never managed. It was only too easy to recall lying in the dark in the cheap hotel room, the singer curled against him and sobbing soundlessly into his chest.

They’d thought then that Jon’s voice might never recover. 

In a way, they’d been right. The high notes had been beyond him after that, beyond even suggesting. But they’d made it through so many more years, side by side. And now, here they were, too many miles apart to count, and both of them still feeling the same old grief. 

Jon’s voice wasn’t going to recover this time, and both of them knew it. 

Idly, he reached to the guitar that lay beside him, tuning to the familiar setup without thought, his fingers playing without any input from his conscious mind. 

_“We’ve got each other, and that’s a lot...”_

The single line of lyric stuttered to a halt, his tongue catching and tripping against his teeth. They didn’t have each other, not any more. 

He stared back at the computer screen, the frozen image there, the camera staring up and capturing the grief in Jon’s eyes. He knew, there was no question of that. He knew his voice had finally failed.

And he was facing it alone.

Outside of the room, he could hear Ori humming to herself, oddly tuneless as she moved around, the quiet shuffle of her feet on the carpet completely out of synch with whatever she was humming.

Silently, Richie set the guitar aside again and rose from the sofa where he’d been sprawled, watching his former partner - his former friend - falling apart. 

And just as silently, he turned away and left, closing the door behind him.


	2. Alt. Ending 1: Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst Ending

He crossed the room with determined strides, ignoring Ori’s questioning call, to the table where his cellphone lay. A few flicks of his thumb across the screen, and he began scrolling through a long list of names, which very few people would recognize as belonging to the people he’d assigned them. 

Most of the names in the list of contacts were nicknames, pseudonyms, or misnomers. If he lost his phone - which had happened, although with the alcohol behind him it was far less likely to happen again - he didn’t want everyone’s information splashed across the world. 

This wasn’t the same phone he’d had when he walked away, but the contact was still there, the name listed as simply ‘Brother’, just as it had been for years, before he’d closed the door behind him. 

Trying to convince himself he wasn’t holding his breath, he tapped the number and lifted the phone to his ear.

And he listened while it rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And fell silent in his ear, before the sad tone of his telephone informed him that the call had been disconnected. 

Not from his end. 

Blowing out the breath he’d been holding, Richie stared down at the stone-tile floor beneath his feet, opened his hand, and let the phone fall.

The one he replaced it with would have one name fewer in the contact list.


	3. Alt. Ending 2: Mending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hopeful ending.

He crossed the room with determined strides, ignoring Ori’s questioning call, to the table where his cellphone lay. A few flicks of his thumb across the screen, and he began scrolling through a long list of names, which very few people would recognize as belonging to the people he’d assigned them. 

Most of the names in the list of contacts were nicknames, pseudonyms, or misnomers. If he lost his phone - which had happened, although with the alcohol behind him it was far less likely to happen again - he didn’t want everyone’s information splashed across the world. 

This wasn’t the same phone he’d had when he walked away, but the contact was still there, the name above it listed as simply ‘Brother’, just as it had been for years, before he’d closed the door behind him. 

Trying to convince himself he wasn’t holding his breath, he tapped the number and lifted the phone to his ear.

And he listened while it rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And finally, when he’d begun to think it would never be answered, the ringing stopped, replaced with the staticky sound of a low, wary sigh, followed by silence.

Any musician worth his salt was a good judge of silence. This one felt... hopeful.

Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Richie found his voice. “Hey, Jonny.” 

A short, thin rasp of laughter broke the silence from the other end. “Hey, Rich. It’s good to hear your voice.”


End file.
